Some of Dean's theories
by Bookjunk
Summary: Dean has some theories about his life and about Cas, but they lead to unexpected places. Set between episode 5.3 and 5.4.
1. The Outsiders

Author's note: Since this story takes place between episode 5.3 and 5.4 and it has been a while since those episodes aired; here's a short summary of what happens in episode 5.3 _Free to be you and me _that's important to remember for this story. You can, of course, skip the summary.

_Sam and Dean have decided that hunting together is not working, so they __are apart. Castiel asks Dean to help him find the archangel who killed Castiel, Raphael. Castiel believes Raphael might know where God is, but warns Dean that Castiel might not survive the confrontation. To Dean's question of how he plans to spend what is possibly his last day on earth, Castiel answers, _'I just thought I'd sit here quietly._' Dean is not having that, so he asks whether Castiel maybe wants booze or women. At that last word Castiel glances at Dean, but looks away quickly. Dean thinks the hesitating glance means Castiel has never had sex, which is true, so naturally Dean takes him to a brothel. Castiel cannot die a virgin on Dean's watch. It is hilarious how uncomfortable and afraid Castiel looks in this '_den of iniquity._' Again naturally, Castiel screws up and he doesn't have sex. In the end they find Raphael, who thinks God is dead, but Castiel remains convinced that God is out there. Dean urges Castiel to keep believing and Castiel does his vanishing thing._

(***)

**Chapter**** 1: The Outsiders**

Back in another motel room, which he could only afford because Cas was such a freak and had not succeeded at having sex with a hooker, Dean looked out of the window. In a way he was grateful for not having to spend another night at an abandoned house, because that shit was depressing. On the other hand, he thought, as he turned away from the window and surveyed the room, this wasn't much better. Damp spots were visible on the ceiling and on all but one of the four walls. He could swear he heard vermin scurrying in the walls. Well, at least the sheets looked clean. Then again, the few people who came to a motel like this knew better than to engage in any activity that would stain the sheets.

The rush of rapidly flapping wings spooked him and he looked towards the sound. For a scary moment, he thought it might be Raphael, who had come to torture the whereabouts of Cas out of him, but luckily it wasn't. It was just Cas. Good; he was so tired of being tortured all the time.

'One of these days you're going to kill me. You'll pop up like that and I'll have a heart attack,' he scolded Cas, but the angel seemed unaffected by the admonition. Cas dragged the only chair in the room closer and sat down with a curious head tilt.

'Have you ever died of a heart attack before?' he asked. Dean briefly considered seriously answering the question. One time he was electrocuted and his heart was damaged, but a preacher saved him with an evil switcheroo. Then there was the time with the time loop that Sam told him about where he apparently died like a hundred times, so maybe one of those deaths was a heart attack. And when he died and went to hell... Eventually, he just commented on the absurdity of the question.

'It is a testament to how weird our lives are that you can say that with a straight face,' he said and Cas wondered aloud what his face should look like.

'Never mind,' Dean answered. The guy only had one facial expression anyway: slightly something. Over the past year Dean had witnessed slightly perturbed, slightly puzzled, slightly angry and slightly curious. Perhaps one day he would have the dubious pleasure of seeing him slightly amused, but he didn't count on it. While Cas might be happy to stare into space the entire night, Dean was anxious for something. The events of the day and night before had been exhilarating and fun, so he was exhausted. Yet, he couldn't bear the thought of going to sleep. That might be because it had been a long time since he had slept alone. He usually shared a room with Sam or the bed with some woman.

On top of that, he knew his exhaustion was not merely physical. Mentally, he was worn out too. He knew that, however long or short his life might be, fighting was his destiny. Sammy would probably say something fruity, like that it was his _raison d'être_. Killing demons and saving people; that was his thing. Dean was good at it and he liked it, but if he was honest he had to admit that the thought of it continuing into eternity made him feel weary too. There were all these little battles and some you lost and some you won and overall it was hard to determine what they meant in the grand scheme of things. What bothered him most, however, was that it didn't stop. It probably never would either. It would just go on, forever.

That was why he was a little jealous of Sam sometimes. At least Sam had experienced a different life before full-time demon hunting. University would not have been Dean's thing at all, he was well aware of that. The envy was reserved for the things Dean associated with the life style. Fraternities, endless parties and hangovers, meeting hot and smart chicks, making friends for life. That's what people did at university: they expanded their social circle. Everyone Dean met was a hunter, a demon, or a victim. Or an angel, he amended as he looked at Cas, who was staring at a damp spot shaped like a hat. The only ties he had were to people who knew about evil.

It was strange that earlier that day he had given Cas an inspiring pep talk about keeping the faith when Dean himself lacked faith. He sighed and decided it wasn't so bad after all. It had just been a long day. A hard day's night, he grinned. As he lay down on the bed he decided he was just tired.

'Sometimes I long to be someone who when a seal is mentioned doesn't think of demons breaking them, but who thinks of a sea animal or the musician,' Dean said and Cas, startled, looked at him. For this occasion he had donned his slightly puzzled expression.

'He is the one who is married to Heidi Klum, right?' Cas inquired. Dean craned his neck to stare at him. The angel seemed to understand that he had said something strange and needed to explain himself.

'Sam told me once, when we saw her on television. She was a judge of people designing clothes?' Cas offered in an unsure voice and paused before continuing, 'You weren't there.'

Dean decided it was best not to comment on that statement, though it amused him to no end. Cas and Sam watching an episode of Project Runway: it was so funny it was almost not funny anymore. His stomach muscles cramped as he tried not to laugh. In his next conversation with Sam he would be sure to mention this gem.

'Is that funny?'

Sometimes when Dean looked at Cas he saw something inexplicable. The body Cas had chosen to occupy was not special. His face was handsome, but not overly so. His physique was fine. Though, because Cas was perpetually sombre looking due to some apocalypse or other, his shoulders were slightly hunched at times. All in all, if you needed to cast an angel and Cas walked in, he could nail the audition and he still would probably not get called back. Yet, when you spent time with him something else shone through. It was not because you knew him better, because there was a lot to know and he told very little. Cas was like one of those paintings which seemed to depict one thing, but when you looked at them for a long time or in a different light with a certain head tilt another picture emerged. Dean thought it was like an ugly duckling becoming a swan. The man was a fucking fairy tale.

Something was always shimmering underneath the surface and that _was_ special. Not because he was an angel, because the angel part vaguely irritated Dean. The inability to understand the simplest concepts, the way he went on and on about God, his zapping thing; Dean could do without those. Oh yes, he would gladly and easily do without those features of his friend. The thing that was special about Cas was also the thing that allowed them to be friends. It was hard to describe or explain. As much as Cas plunged Dean into danger on a regular basis he had also saved him numerous times.

Special was perhaps the weariness that Dean recognised in him. Sam had it and Dean felt it too. It was the human qualities that Cas wasn't supposed to possess that appealed to him. Sometimes it made Dean wonder whether Cas might be more human than he let on or than Cas himself realised. Now was not a good time to theorise about that, however. Dean resolved to at least try to sleep. Though it was kind of creepy to think that Cas would sit there staring straight ahead - contemplating existence or whatever it was he did - while Dean slept; it was also comforting, in a weird way, to know that he was right there. To know that he was not alone.


	2. That was then

**Chapter**** 2: That was then...**

The pillow wasn't cooperating, in fact, the entire bed wasn't cooperating. Dean constantly felt things crawling or tickling, but he knew there was nothing there. The sheets looked clean; hence, they _were_ clean. It was important to not let crazy ideas get into his head, because before you knew it you couldn't sleep in seedy motels ever again. So, there were no mites or bed bugs. He was sticking to that theory. There was a reward, because about ten minutes later he entered that curious state where you're neither sleeping nor fully awake. Soon he would be sleeping. Relaxed he started to drift off.

'I know you had sex with Anna,' Cas suddenly said, apropos of absolutely nothing. Dean sighed and turned the other way. His friend was still sitting there, not looking at him. It was stupid really, he should have told him he was trying to sleep, but being on the bed with his eyes closed in the middle of the night; he kind of thought that spoke for itself. Mistake, of course, because you always had to spell things out with Cas. In his state of general annoyance, it took Dean a few seconds to fully realise what Cas had said and then he sat up straight.

'How do you know that?'

Cas turned to face him and levelled one of those insanely intense stares at him. Those were unnerving. Not that he would admit just how much they freaked him out; he usually joked and laughed them off, but man, they were scary. Mostly because, it was like Cas was looking right through him. No, that wasn't right. When Cas looked at Dean like that it made him feel...well, dirty. There was a sexual component to it that was unsettling, but what was even more disturbing was that it felt as if Cas was reading his thoughts. His innermost fears and desires; if Dean had any beyond clowns and cheeseburgers. Rooting around in his mind must be plain boring.

'Anna told me,' Cas said, by way of an explanation. Didn't those guys have anything better to do than discuss his sex life? The angels were forever poking around in their lives as if they had any right to. It made Dean feel embarrassed for them. They were supposed to be good and holy and instead they just tried to kick-start apocalypses because they had daddy issues, betrayed each other every three seconds, and apparently sat around discussing the juicy details of the lives of the Winchester boys. That was unfair; Dean knew Anna wouldn't do that and Cas would definitely not do that.

'Wow. TMI, am I right?' Dean joked and added, after receiving a blank stare from Cas, 'Too much information?' Which it was, but Anna must have told him for a reason. He really should ask Cas why he was mentioning this now. How was this of vital importance at this hour? Why was Cas even here?

'What are you doing here?' Dean asked. Cas looked around, slightly puzzled again, because it was obvious what he was doing. With a sigh, Dean cut him off before he could say something dopy like that he was sitting on a chair.

'I mean, is there something urgent you need to tell me? Is Raphael going to come storming through that door? Have you found God? Was God mean to you?' he summed up. As the words left his mouth he wished he hadn't said them. He shouldn't mock God. Not because of the smiting and the wrath and the blasphemy, but because God was like a father to Cas. Now Cas looked slightly hurt and Dean was ashamed that he had been the one to slightly wound his feelings.

'No. Is this one of those times when you ask me why I'm here, but you're really telling me to go?' Cas asked with his eyes narrowed. Dean felt almost proud. Some day Cas would get the hang of those pesky emotions! Too bad that in this case he had guessed wrong.

'No, but I am trying to sleep, so...' Dean said and he lay down again. Cas resumed staring at his favourite damp spot on the wall. Perhaps Dean should adopt that strategy too. Something along the line of counting spots. Some of them were even shaped like sheep, if you didn't look too hard.

'Do you remember when we went to the brothel?' Cas asked and now Dean was really getting annoyed. He sighed loudly and sat up.

'Yes, like it was yesterday, because it was_ literally_ yesterday,' he snapped, but either Cas didn't notice the tone or he didn't know what the tone meant. Ah, hanging out with an angel; such fun times.

'There were only women there,' Cas elaborated and this clarification was as unnecessary as it was untrue. There had been other male customers there, but as far as their choices were concerned there were only women. Slowly, something started to dawn on Dean. Meanwhile, Cas looked at the floor, scratched his neck, and coughed. Basically, he did anything he humanly could to convey his unease.

'Oh,' Dean finally stammered and he honestly didn't know what to say to that. This was not a good time to talk about Dean having sex with Anna or about Cas' sexuality. Come to think of it, it would never be a good time to talk about Cas' sexuality. So, Cas was gay? Or bisexual? When Dean had asked him whether he wanted booze or women on what was possibly his last night on earth, Cas had thrown him that embarrassed, hesitating glance. He had interpreted it to mean that Cas was a virgin, which he was, but what if it had meant something else? Like, I'm not interested in women? Or not _only_ in women?

This was the part where Dean felt he should say something, but nothing occurred to him. If Cas was uncomfortable then that was entirely Dean's fault. Dean was sure Cas knew a few things about sexuality, but if he felt awkward about admitting that he was not heterosexual then either Dean or Sam must have put it into his head that there was something wrong with that. They, and Bobby, were the only people Cas spend any time with. The Bible didn't hold much sway with angels, so that couldn't be it.

'You assumed I would be attracted to women, like you,' Cas said and he turned towards Dean, 'I don't understand this distinction that you make between men and women. Humans are always talking about how what's inside counts, yet they make a strange obligatory selection based on gender. Wouldn't it make more sense to decide to be attracted to and have sex with good people? Or intelligent people? Only humans could make such an irrational distinction.'

Rationally speaking, Castiel was right. However, humans did not behave rationally, not if they could avoid it. Attraction, like love, holds the dubious honour of being beyond explanation, so if he wanted rationality he should really look elsewhere. It wasn't Dean's fault that he had only ever been attracted to women. Nor was Cas to blame for his non-selection process; it was just how he rolled.

'We don't really decide who we're attracted to; we're born a certain way,' Dean explained. It was weird that he was not freaked out by this conversation. He felt like he was on the verge of being dragged into a debate over whether people were born with a set sexual orientation or whether it was a choice. Again, he was too tired and he felt it was too late for philosophical theorising, but he humoured Cas. This was evidently important to him.

'And how am I supposed to know what's inside a person? I've been given to understand that sex is about, aside from physical attraction, love and connection and trust and respect. How can I share that with someone I do not know? How can I share that when I do not have those feelings myself?' Cas asked. His sincerity was startling. To Dean it seemed almost as if he was pleading for Dean to provide answers to these burning questions. Sam would be so much better than him at answering those: he was the one who had had Jessica. A long discussion of the difference between lust and love and one night stands was not in order, but Dean felt he had little else to offer.

As for Cas' absence of emotion; Dean was really starting to doubt that lack. Cas' superiors had noticed the change and Dean had noticed it too. Just because Cas himself wasn't aware of it, that didn't mean he hadn't changed. He felt something for Dean, he felt something for Sam. Dean knew without a doubt that Cas was capable of caring for people. Perhaps it had been wrong to take him to a brothel if this was how Cas felt. However, it was beyond Dean why they had to discuss this when all he really wanted was to get some sleep.

'Well, don't worry about it, buddy. You lived to see another day. Plenty of time to think about all of that another time. And you do feel shit. I know you do,' Dean said. As much as he wanted the conversation to be over, he only had to look at Cas to see it wasn't. No rest for the wicked, Dean thought.

'I don't feel. I am in possession of the five human senses, but I don't experience emotion,' Cas stated. It took all Dean's self discipline – and there wasn't a whole lot of that – to keep himself from saying that it was becoming clearer and clearer that Cas was not in possession of one crucial sense, otherwise he would by now have seen that Dean. Wanted. To. Go. To. Sleep. He had to be blind not to see that. Suppressing a groan, Dean struggled to stay civil.

'You don't say,' he responded sarcastically, 'By the way, I like our crazy human selection process. If women only slept with good guys I'd never get laid. You might want to take that into account.'

_You might want to take that into account__. _So, if people slept only with good people, Dean was exempted. Unless an exception was made. Dean was unsure whether that was what he had meant when he said that. And who was to make that exception anyway; everyone, all the women or just Cas? He wondered whether he had just accidentally put himself forward as a possible lover.


	3. This is now

**Chapter 3: ...this is now**

'You are good,' Cas said, obstinately, and Dean couldn't help but smirk. So, he hadn't caught that vague slip. Good. On the other hand, Dean thought, as his smirk faded, _he_ was not good. He wasn't sure he had ever been good. Of course, he tried and mostly he did all the right things and said all the right words. Other people seemed to be convinced, but he could never convince himself. For some reason it disappointed him that Cas believed his act. Or maybe Cas saw something in him that Dean wasn't aware was there.

'Maybe I was a righteous man once, whatever the hell that means, but after the torturing I'm sure as hell not anymore,' Dean responded. Hearing himself, he realised he sounded angry. The angel cocked his head and stared at him.

'Is this self pity?'

There was nothing reproachful in his voice or in his face – he hadn't mastered slightly reproachful yet. He was merely curious. Dean managed not to roll his eyes and applaud. Thank you for insulting me, he wanted to say, and I can't even punch you in the face, because you're oblivious.

'Sam told me you feel that a lot,' Cas added. That was great. When did they even have time for these cosy, little conversations? Probably while watching Project Runway.

'Sam should know: he is a walking pity party himself,' he snapped and now Cas looked slightly puzzled. It was like watching a dog trying to figure out the relativity theory; it was just not going to happen. There was no use getting angry about it either. If Dean should be mad at anyone it was Sam. Where did he get off claiming Dean was full of self pity? Dean simply knew himself. Trying to make a joke out of it, Dean responded lightly.

'Doesn't matter, Cas. Who wants to go to heaven anyway? I'd have to listen to you guys bickering and I bet Michael would still be a bit upset because I won't let him wear me like a meat suit.'

Cas looked like he was about to say something to that. Not that he would say anything helpful. He would probably object to the term meat suit and insist that this implied Dean would be dead. On the contrary, he would be alive and it would be painful as hell, or something along those lines. Well, Dean didn't want to hear it. Especially, not right now.

'I'm going to try and sleep. That means you should be quiet. I'd really appreciate that,' Dean told Cas, dryly. Cas nodded, though he did not return his staring at the wall. Even with his eyes closed Dean could feel Castiel's gaze wash over him.

'When I thought I might die...' Cas began. For fuck sake, let me sleep, Dean thought. It was even too much to ask to preface his comment with a 'Can I say one last thing before you get some much deserved rest?' No, he barged right in. Urging himself to stay calm, Dean opened his eyes and folded his hands under his head.

'Yeah,' Dean managed to grind out. This was not good for his teeth or his mood or his patience.

'I did want to just sit there quietly, with you,' Cas finished. And maybe Dean was like a dog trying to figure out the relativity theory too, except this time, he got it. Something clicked. There was a connection, a pattern, to everything Cas had been keeping Dean awake with. Anna's last day on earth, Cas' insistence that really knowing someone prior to sex would be important to him, his hesitance regarding feelings and now his statement that he would have wanted to spend his last night on earth with Dean.

What had Anna done on her last day as a human? She slept with Dean.

Who did Cas know, really know? Dean.

Why was Cas so adamant about not having feelings? Because he did have feelings.

In a subtle way, Cas had essentially said that he – not necessarily in a sexual manner - loved Dean. The best part, however, the part that amused Dean, was that Cas was completely unaware that he had admitted this. He was sitting there, calmly, staring at Dean and Dean stared right back.

The strange part was that Dean was really only amused. He felt he should be feeling some other stuff, but he wasn't feeling it. In one move he placed his feet firmly on the carpet and stood up. Some refreshing was in order. Sleep was not going to come knocking tonight, because an angel was blocking the door. The bathroom was shabbier than the bedroom; something he wouldn't have thought possible. But hey, seeing is believing.

He splashed some water in his face and grimaced at himself in the mirror. Cas was, as usual, suddenly standing behind him. Both their chins wore stubble and under their eyes were bags. Rubbing at his jaw, Dean turned around and yes, Cas was right in his face.

'You're beautiful,' Cas said and it was hard not to take that the wrong way. It was a compliment, but dudes didn't go around saying that to other dudes. That was not done. However, explaining this particular code of conduct to Cas would be a nightmare, so he would just go with it. He had most likely meant it in an all of God's creatures are beautiful kind of way, anyway.

They were standing closer than ever as Dean leaned back against the sink. Déjà vu; the exact same thing had happened yesterday. Dean wasn't going to deliver the warning for a second time, because the learning curve wasn't exceptionally steep. There was no curve, there was no learning. Instead, he opted for staring at Cas until the latter got the message.

'I'm sorry. Am I in your personal space again?' Cas asked, after at least a minute of prolonged staring. For once, his face didn't display slightly anything. It was pretty clear he cared about Dean and wanted to make Dean happy. Dean's stomach reacted with a flutter.

In the end, what did it matter if Castiel didn't understand the concept of personal space? That he didn't get a 'don't cross the streams' or a 'generally, you don't see that kind of behaviour in a major appliance' reference? They had only known each other for about a year and he had already evolved from a machine into an actual person. One day Dean would sit him down and they would watch _Ghostbusters_, perhaps even the second film, and then he would get the reference, if not the joke. Moreover, Dean wasn't convinced Cas had started out as emotionless as he claimed. Sammy could often be tricked by the most ridiculous bullshit Dean spouted and Dean could even pull one over on Bobby if he tried, but from the very beginning Dean had not been able to fool Cas. Dude was able to see right through his bullshit and divine the truth – divine, ha.

He _knew_ Dean. Better than Sam knew him. Better than Dean wanted Sam to know him. With anyone else this complete openness would have been inconceivable. Dean would never have allowed it to happen and he would have felt exposed and vulnerable. For some reason, with Cas it was business as usual. It felt right to have someone around who understood him so well.

The things he had done for Dean were insane. He had pulled him out of hell. He had saved him time and time again. He had rebelled against heaven for him. Almost everything he had done in the past year, he had done because he had faith in Dean. Even now, after all the stupid mistakes Dean had made, Cas was still here.

'No. I mean, yes, but I don't mind,' Dean said, because what else could he have said in the face of such devotion. It was true; he really didn't mind. This love that Castiel felt, Dean felt it too. It was the only thing that had gotten Dean through the last year. His actions had stopped being about saving the world a long time ago. All he wanted to do now was not disappoint Cas. This ridiculous faith that Cas had in him; he needed to earn that and keep earning it.

Despite Dean's assurance, Cas stepped back, but Dean curled his fingers around Cas' wrist. Cas stopped and looked up at Dean. Cas' face betrayed nothing, but his eyes were full of hope. Roughly, Dean pulled him closer and kissed him hard. Their stubble made a raspy sound. It felt right to do this. Now while Sam had the memory of Jessica, Dean would have the memory of Cas. After a second, Castiel responded. Man, did he respond! His hands were all over Dean as they backed into the bedroom towards the bed.

'I love you, Cas,' Dean breathed. They tumbled onto the bed and Dean grinned. Cas tried to say it back, but Dean smothered the words with another feverish kiss. Pressed against the bed, Cas' body reacted for him, which caused Dean to grin again. He didn't need Cas to say it. Everything he did confirmed it. It was in every little move and word and every limited facial expression. I love you. I love you. I love you. He had been saying it all along.

'Just tell me you won't stop,' Dean whispered. This caused Cas to pause and stare deep into his eyes. His voice, often so devoid of emotion, was trembling and so sincere it almost hurt Dean to listen. Yet, he drank in the word Cas uttered.

'Never.'

(***)

It was easier to go on after that. Knowing that Cas loved him, no matter what. When it ended, if this quest to save the world from demons and apocalypses ever ended, Dean didn't know what would happen then. After all, an exiled angel is still an angel. Until that happened, however, Dean had a theory. It involved a succession of nights and days like that one. Just Cas and him. It was more wishful fantasy that a theory, but that didn't bother Dean. If everything else failed, never was a promise.

The end.


End file.
